


The Scientific Method of Making Love to Demons

by Snowfilly1



Series: Rare Omens Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abuse of the Scientific Method, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale / Crowley (background), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Rare Omens, The Gentleman's Club, original demon character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29227725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowfilly1/pseuds/Snowfilly1
Summary: Aziraphale has never been a scientist. He looks for answers in art; in books, poems, plays that might reflect something of his experience (and sometimes, despite being an angel, he finds the humans have answered his doubts well). But he knows enough to know their methods.Form a hypothesis: I will Fall if I love the demon Crowley.Design an experiment to test the hypothesis.Or, over the centuries, Aziraphale tries to discover if he'll Fall by a series of carefully planned experiments.
Relationships: Aziraphale (Good Omens)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Rare Omens Prompt Fills [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146065
Comments: 18
Kudos: 47
Collections: Rare Omens





	The Scientific Method of Making Love to Demons

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for consensual sexual content and swearing. Mentioned homophobia and 1800s attitudes to sexuality. 
> 
> Much like Aziraphale, I am not and never have been a scientist. There's probably all sorts of issues with his methodology, but I'm lazy and he's in love so please excuse us both. 
> 
> This was written for the Rare Omens Prompt Aziraphale / Demon who isn't Crowley.

Aziraphale has never been a scientist. He looks for answers in art; in books, poems, plays that might reflect something of his experience (and sometimes, despite being an angel, he finds the humans have answered his doubts well). But he knows enough men of science, or natural philosophy, or poking things with sticks as Crowley describes it, to know their methods.

Form a hypothesis.

_I will Fall if I love the demon Crowley._

Design an experiment to test the hypothesis.

_How can I? I love him_ _with each breath,_ _with each heartbeat, I love him as completely_ _as I live, and I have not yet Fallen._

Assess similar studies, make a thesis of their research.

_I have performed temptations for Crowley a hundred times. I have looked at his list of souls for Hell, and the reasons they have been sent there. I have never seen or heard of a soul damned for love._

_I have never heard of an angel who loved._

Form a conclusion.

_If I were to Fall for loving him, it would already have happened. (In Rome, when he turned and smiled at me. In Eden, when he spoke to me when no-one else would.) And humans do not Fall for love (so it must be for angels. It must. It must. It cannot be otherwise.)_

Report the results.

A couch, that fits the demon's long limbs, in the bookshop. A report written for Hell and submitted without Crowley asking. A with-holding of a suicide pill (a selfish love, _I want you, I want you, you mustn't leave)_ all the thousand ways of saying I love you when the words are banned.

***

Aziraphale is greedy, he knows that. And terrified. Another hypothesis.

_They say making love is the sin. I would want that with Crowley._

Another experiment.

Haunted men in a gentleman's club. Hasty hands against clothing, fumbling pressure and pleasure, a closeness that is never close enough.

He sees plenty of humans fall for it; into shame and prison and death. Oscar amongst them.

Conclusion: He will not risk any humans for the doubtful pleasures he gets from it. But he hasn't Fallen for making love, for having sex, for a mindless fuck against the wall one night. He tries to reassure himself that it's a valid one.

***

A third idea.

_I am meant to protect humans. They would not punish me for anything non-harmful I did with them. I am meant to oppose demons. To touch them in kindness would be the mis-step, the moment when I would be unforgivable._

No experiment this time.

A bomb. A little demonic miracle. Fingers touching across a briefcase handle, and he's never touched anything with such love and devotion.

Nothing happens. ( _Everything happens. I didn't know love felt like this. Not really. This is new.)_

_***_

A forth. A final one.

A statement: _I will not let Crowley carry the weight of my Fall. I will not have him believe he ruined me if my crime is laying with a demon._

He has always known there are other demons around. Hastur and Ligur, who he isn't afraid of but tries to avoid. Crowley rattles off names of minor demons who never come to Earth sometimes. There are a few of them who know not to come near London because that's Crowley's territory; a handful of those who Crowley doesn't hate and who Aziraphale doesn't fear.

He's not sure which of those two points is the most important.

His name is Louis (he chose it long before it was a human name). Aziraphale remembers his name from a couple of late night rants from Crowley about other demons who didn't do their paperwork and caused Beezlebub to crack down and insist on department wide file inspections. Remembers meeting him on a battlefield somewhere a few hundred years ago, where Crowley had been skulking off round the edges and Louis had been running away with a sack full of armour belonging to both sides. He'd sold it a few towns over, and Aziraphale had managed a few minor miracles to make sure it ended up with people who would benefit from it in the next few battles.

He's lazy, according to Crowley. He's also pretty inoffensive, according to what Aziraphale can find in the Heavenly records; no notable deeds except that he's known to sleep with humans. Consenting humans, although most of his honours seem to reference breaking up relationships.

Aziraphale has never set out to seduce anyone before. The men at the Club were a convenience of geography and need; of similar desires and a need not to be alone in the dark. He thinks he might not need to seduce Crowley (Pride is a sin; seeing the way Crowley looks at him sometimes is knowledge.)

He finds Louis in Scotland. Finds a grey sky and the taste of ashes and doubt in his mouth; the fear that this will be, finally, what makes him Fall. Finds a demon with short black hair, wearing jeans and trainers, a hat and gloves. His eyes are oh so human.

Aziraphale finds him in a pub, seducing a married man. He's done temptations for Crowley. It's easy enough to interrupt, distract, although Louis recognises him at once and after the other man leaves, asks outright 'What do you think you're doing?'

He has walked home with a demon before, in laughter and easy silence and furious debate. Not with this watchful regard, as he lays a hand on Louis' arm; lets his hand brush against the semblance of claws. Not with this doubtful questioning, the probing to find out if it's a trap of some sort.

He explains none of it in words.

Louis leads him indoors, stares at him.

Aziraphale tries to explain.

_(A broken litany. I can love Crowley. I can make love to a human. I can touch a demon in kindness. Let me have this. Please, let me have this.)_

The thought spills into speech. 'Please let me have this. Please let me have this.'

Louis quirks his lips. A horn glints in the shade of the room.

Aziraphale touches the back of his hand. It is fur soft.

'I'm not your demon.'

'I...I don't need you to be. For this.'

Another long considering silence. There's hardly any light in the room; his horns shouldn't shine like that.

'Alright.'

It is surprisingly gentle. He's never had a partner he doesn't need to match; a partner who can see the etherealness of him in movements and responses a human body can't offer. He brings his wings out for part of it, shading their bed from onlookers, wondering if it will be enough to keep him safe. And the horns are frankly...interesting.

Louis, the demon, cries out underneath him. He has made demons scream before, but not like that. Aziraphale finds his own pleasure a moment later, in the realisation that nothing has happened to him. Still unfallen.

He laughs, once they've got their breath back. 'I think you proved whatever point you were trying to make, Az.'

(He's glad for the casual shortening no-one else has ever used; the way he can fence this off into something no-one else ever knows.)

'Why? What do you mean?'

'Go tell your precious Crowley he won't make you Fall. I - I won't tell him about this.'

Aziraphale nods, and if his 'thank you' carries all the weight of an angelic blessing...if he relaxes to see that it has no impact on his lover...well, there are things he doesn't need to tell anyone else ever.

He leaves, smiling. _I can have it all._

Ultimate conclusion: _They can't do anything to me. Fuck the rules._


End file.
